One shots about Jily, Hinny and Romione
by LillyRose128
Summary: I've written quite a few fanfictions/oneshots about Jily, Hinny and Romione (this is still in production) on my tumblr (loveontheninthcloud.) and thought it would be nice to have them on here as well. My native language is Dutch so I could translate it to that if you'd like, as well.
1. Disclaimer regarding all of the stories

Standard disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


	2. Hinny - Ginny

Okay I kinda went haywire on this (I've literally been writing on this for two hours now, non-stop) and I think it's kind of rubbish as this is one of the first oneshots I've written during the day (I normally write at like, 11PM because.. Idk bro) and about Hinny so yeah. Hope I did well, anon!

"Can you please write a fanfic of Harry and Ginny's "stolen hours" in hidden parts of the grounds while dating in the sixth book and they do crosswords and have little Charms competitions to see who can make leaves dance the best and Ginny figures out Harry's ticklish and gives him endless shit for it and cheek kisses and snuggles and so cute"

'Guess who?' a pair of hands clasped on the young Weasley's eyes from behind. Ginny's friends rolled her eyes and stood up, walking away. They were glad she finally got on with the boy she'd been fancying since her First Year but it was annoying hearing her talk about him all the time. She tried to keep it to a minimum but it was so hard not to talk about his eyes – big green ones – or about his messy black hair she loved to ruffle through with her fingers or about how his muscles worked during Quidditch practice.

'I don't know,' she smiled although she absolutely knew who – the smell of parchment and the woody scent of broomstick handle unmasked the young boy. She pretended to play along for the sake of it. 'Is it Michael? Dean?' the boy kept quiet. 'Okay I give up.'

'Well then I guess I can eat these sweets alone,' Harry sang, letting go of her eyes and holding a bag of Muggle chocolate bars in front of her face. He'd been keeping them since Christmas, after he'd found Ginny and Dean snogging. He'd hoped they'd break up so they could share chocolate to reduce her heartbreak and maybe kiss her, too.

'You're mean,' she fake-pouted, kissing his cheek. 'Please share with me?'

'Only if you'll follow me,' he smiled and reached out his hand. She smiled and wove her fingers through his.

'Only if you'll promise not to kidnap me.'

'Well maybe I'd like to keep you for myself and the only way to do that is to lock you up. I'll feed you chocolate a few times a day though,' laughed Harry.

'If you keep onto that chocolate promise I might follow you,' Ginny said, wrapping her other arm around his arm.

And they set off, wandering around the castle. It was mostly empty; almost all of the Fifth Year students were revising for the O.W.L.s coming up, the others were enjoying themselves on a trip to Hogsmeade. Ginny had been revising all day and was glad that Harry took her outside.

'How come I've never been here before, Harry?' she asked once she realized they weren't on common grounds.

'Found this part of the ground with Padfoot once. He led me to it,' Harry confessed. The Marauders had found a lot more ground and passageways than most pupils did and Harry gladly went there to avoid the stares.

Harry let go of Ginny's hand, got his schoolbag from his shoulder and revealed one of the covers they had on their beds in the dorms, laid it down on the grass and pulled her down with him.

'Figured I don't like green stains on my trousers and Dobby'll do my laundry anyway,' Harry said, answering Ginny's questioning look. She'd obviously never been picnicking before at home.

'Where's my chocolate?' she questioned, seeing Harry take out a few papers and both of their wands – she wondered how he'd gotten her wand, seeing as she had it lying next to her in the common room.

'I didn't know it had your name on it,' Harry winked, tossing her one of the chocolate bars – milk with hazelnut, her favourite. She'd told him – once – that it was her favourite and he had remembered it ever since.

'Well it does now,' she said, reaching out for her wand and scribbling "Ginny Weasley" on the wrapper.

'Okay, let's test your Muggle knowledge,' Harry said, crawling over to sit next to her. She automatically leaned against him and Harry wondered again how luck he'd gotten with her.

'A crossword?'

'Yes,' Harry smiled, kissing the top of her head and getting dizzy again with her flowery scent.

And so they filled out crosswords until their stomachs began to growl with hunger.

'C'mon I need to eat. I'm starving,' Ginny proclaimed.

'You know, you remind me an awful lot of Ron in this way,' Harry said, ruffling her hair. He loved that she wasn't like the other girls, having to make up for class and getting mad when their hair wasn't perfectly in place.

'Sod off, Harry,' exclaimed Ginny, prodding his stomach. The tiny squeal he let out lit Ginny's eyes up.

'You're ticklish?' Harry ignored her. 'Oh Merlin, the great Harry Potter, the Chosen One is ticklish!' her boyfriend pretended she didn't exist again and this set off her tickling.

'Are you ignoring me?' she said, tickling his stomach. Harry let out a very unmanly, feminine giggle, pushing her off softly. And so the pair spent the next fifteen minutes tickling each other on the grass, until both had to catch their breath and lay heaving on the ground.

'Ron's going to have a fit when he sees me like that. You do realize that, don't you?' Ginny questioned him, her hair a bird's nest and her t-shirt crumpled up.

'And Hermione's going to laugh at us for the next two weeks,' Harry added, his hair and clothes in the same state as Ginny's. 'But we can fix this.'

So he turned around, getting Ginny's brush and a new, though exactly the same as her old one, shirt from his schoolbag.

'My god, Harry, how the hell do you manage to sneak up to the girls' dormitories and steal my stuff?'

'Didn't. Hermione got them for me, because she knew your hair was going to be completely tangled and your shirt ruined when I told her I'd take you picnicking. She's done it before with her parents, you see,' he grinned, tossing both the items to her before he turned his back to her, allowing her to change her clothes.

'Brilliant,' the Weasley girl breathed out.

'And you can test your knowledge on Charms by fixing my shirt as I was stupid enough not to get one of my own,' Harry said, giving her her wand.

'Mum's way better at this than I am but this'll have to do,' Ginny waved her wand, muttered a charm and a few ruffles disappeared out of his shirt.

'Hmm, we'll have to work on your Charms before your O.W.L.s then,' Harry smiled wickedly, kissing her cheek.

'Oh? I bet you that I'm better at Charms than you are,' Ginny exclaimed. 'Make those leaves tap-dance and the one who does it worse than the other has to tie a banner on their broom with "I'm a loser" during Quidditch practice.'

'Agreed,' Harry said, sealing the bet with a kiss on Ginny's lips.

Ginny won, as hers did summersaults and tap-danced across the grass and back. Harry had let her win but there was no way he was going to tell her that – ever.

'I told you so,' Ginny smiled deviously, cuddling into Harry. The pair quietly packed up their stuff and walked to the Great Hall. They found Ron and Hermione quickly, the former sulking as soon as he saw his sister enter with his mate. Hermione smiled knowingly at Ginny's neat hair and shirt and Harry mouthed a 'thank you' her way. The couple sat down next to each other, in front of Hermione and Ron who, every so often, touched each other with their elbows or got the same food off of the table.

'Oh, by the way, Harry's ti –' Ginny started off, before Harry pulled her against her, ruffling her hair in the process and dropping his cutlery on his plate.

'Harry's Ginny's boyfriend,' Harry finished off Ginny's sentence and let go of his tight grip.

'Indeed,' smiled his girlfriend, snuggling into him and kissing his cheek.

Dinner progressed quietly, Ron glaring every so often at his mate, but Ginny and Harry escaped before he could get to them.

'Quidditch practice tomorrow, see you then,' Harry said hastily to Ron before they literally ran out of the Great Hall.

'Banner done yet?' Ginny teased at breakfast, sitting down next to Harry.

'Couldn't be better,' he said, kissing her cheek. They went to the Quidditch stands a little before 9, dew still on the grass after a cold night.

'Wait here,' Harry said before he went to tie the banner to his broom and fly off. 'GINNY LOOK UP.'

And there she saw her boyfriend flying, the fabric saying "I'm Ginny's loser." And if she'd been smiling more she was afraid her cheeks were going to burst.

'It's cute. I like it,' she said when she was flying next to him, daring to kiss his cheek 16 feet off the ground.

'That's good because I'm never taking it off again. I'm your loser.' He said, before she took off flying with an amazing speed.

'Come and catch me!'

'I already did,' Harry muttered, before going to catch the girl he loved.


	3. Jily - Gentlemen

For as long as Lily could remember, she'd fallen for blokes acting like gentlemen. Why she didn't for James Potter, she didn't know.

Maybe it was the fact that he'd act like a prat towards her the first two years and later on towards Severus Snape, her Slytherin friend. Or maybe because he and his friends – Marauders as they called themselves – hexed everyone they saw in sight and didn't like. Except for her. They didn't hex her. They went as far – especially James – to invite her on a date with James, every time they saw each other in the hallways. However she'd grown tired of it quickly and had started to hex James with a curse she'd learned from Severus – sticking someone's tongue to the roof of their mouth.

James hadn't grown out of asking her out until Sixth Year, when he slowly started to go out with other girls. And then her father had died, a heart attack is what the Muggles claimed as his death though Lily and all others who knew of the Wizarding World knew that Death Eaters had found her house and murdered her dad while her mum and sister while out working, and she'd slowly tore away from herself.

She'd sit hours and hours in windowsills looking out to the grounds, the grounds her father had longed to go to but could not see them for Muggles couldn't see or enter the Castle. She'd sit hours studying for her tests because she knew her dad had wanted her to do well in school. She'd spend hours talking to friends because she knew that if she didn't she'd slowly drift apart from them, which had happened to her father too and that was exactly why there were very few people at his funeral. She'd also drink coffee at breakfast because her dad swore by it and she needed to understand her father.

And from time to time James found her near the Forbidden Forest or near a tree, crying and a red nose from January's cold. He'd bring her some tea – two milk and three sugar – and talk to her for hours at the time, and even though she rarely spoke, he knew she listened to stories of his childhood, how he'd sneak sweets into his room, how he got cookies from the House-Elves, how his father had taught him to ride a broomstick, how his mum had taught him to properly cook and clean because hey – you didn't need House-Elves for everything.

And now when they saw each other in the hallways they'd smile and maybe even sometimes share a hug. James opened doors for her and help her jump over puddles on the way to Herbology and taught her how to ride a broomstick even though she was terrified by it so she sat on the back of his, her arms around his broad chest. And slowly Lily started to fall for him, for his smiles and hugs and cheekiness and sometimes even a kiss on the top of her head. He'd grown into a gentleman all the way.

That's when Lily knew why she fell for gentlemen; because they all were a bit of James she longed for.


	4. Jily - Hatred for Mistletoe

**Couldn't think of a proper title. Again. Yeah titles suck, let's just leave this as "Hatred for Mistletoe" because it's most definitely about mistletoe.**

**Also, I'm trying to put in some deer jokes because I feel like it (and Sirius would've totally done it if I'd managed to write it in so I'll take up his challenge aha). Yeah, thanks for reading guys xx**

James had always disliked the mistletoe. The green plant with its yellowish flowers and white berries and used for luring someone to kiss under – disgusting. It wasn't for the flower, that he disliked mistletoe. It was usually for the people, the hatred. Mistletoe was always _all over_ the Hogwarts castle during the days before Christmas and often he'd had to take secret passageways to avoid the girls with lipstick – usually a tacky red, bright and eye-hurting and not to mention horribly clashing with Hogwarts' black uniforms – hiding under the plant, usually to lure poor blokes like him into conversation and snog the living daylights out of them. It'd happened numerous of times to Sirius Black and himself, whom both considered themselves as Hogwarts' most handsome blokes.

And this was exactly the reason why he didn't suspect his best friend of trapping him.

'Oi, Prongs, come over here for a second, yeah?' Sirius had been sitting on the common room floor, against one of the couches, reading some Muggle magazine about motorbikes – his latest obsession.

'What'd you want Padfoot? Lily and I have – '

'I don't care what Lily and you_ "have"._ You need to tell me how I can ask McKinnon on a date without her turning me down. I need a snog session before we return home again, Prongs, maybe even a shag. Bird keeps turning me down,' he had said without letting his eyes drift off his magazine.

And as James had been about to answer – his mouth already open – said bird had come downstairs, her dark red haired (and dark had to be added in James' opinion – it's what gave Lily her fiery look that James totally adored) friend in tow.

'James, dear, close that mouth, you're catching flies,' had come Marlene's witty voice drifting down to half of the Marauders. Growing up as a close friend of the Potter's, Marlene had learned quite early on to be the first to sass – you'd be dead meat if you'd let James or one of the others go first.

However, James couldn't close his mouth for Lily had come down the stairs in nothing less than a tight, figure-hugging sweater (green like her _beautiful _eyes) and skinny jeans.

Suddenly, Sirius had gotten up and had stepped a feet back, dragging Prongs along with him.

'Remember what I said? D'you see? She's ignoring me!' barely listening, James had nodded at whatever Sirius had said – too busy focusing on Lily, who now had a blush on her cheeks and_ refused_ to look at him. _Why?_ 'Oh, stop staring, you love sick idiot. OI LILY.'

'OI SIRIUS. WHAT'S IT NOW?'

'WILL YOU COME OVER HERE?' the crowded common room, halfway through dinner people always came up, had fallen to whispering now.

'ONLY IF YOU STOP SHOUTING IT'S HURTING MY EARS,' and with a smile – _more like an devilish angel's smirk _James' thoughts rang – towards Marlene, she'd set off for the two Gryffindor boys.

Once she'd reached them, Sirius had taken a quick step back and grinned the most fiendish grin he could manage, and before either of them could ask why the hell he'd do that, he said two words, 'Look up, _lovebirds_.'

_Mistletoe, I goddamned hate you. May hell burn you thoroughly, _both their thoughts had rung.

And when both remembered their first – though most definitely awkward with unspoken feelings – kiss at their wedding day, neither would admit that was the day they fell for each other – and cussed Sirius and Marlene to hell and back.

**P.S.: not quite sure if Marlene McKinnon is Lily's age or friends with the Potter's. All I'm sure of is that she's spoken of in a lot of fics so I thought it'd be fun to write like Sirius and Marlene had an on-and-off, sassy relationship aha.**


	5. Jily - Muddy football girl

Lily had always been her father's daughter. Growing up, there was always a football in the garden, muddied and sometimes almost beaten to its final game. There were numerous times she'd come home with a scraped knee and hair tousled all over her head. Her mother would usually sigh when she came in covered in mud, wearing an apologetic look as if to say "sorry, mum, I'm not sure if this stain will come out". Her father would whoop and cheer when she'd come in wearing a grin; she'd beaten the other girls again.

Lily didn't worry about her clothes or make-up or shoes. Her sister, Petunia, heavily disliked the boy traits in her. 'How can people still see you as a girl when you're all muddied and yucky?' or 'Lily, please, I helped mummy choose this dress for you, please don't ruin it!'

And as Lily grew, the mud on her shirt and her dishevelled hair slowly disappeared. When her Hogwarts letter came and she'd arrived at the castle, she didn't care as much for sports anymore. It was abnormal, girls shouldn't play sports, was what she'd been taught countless of times.

'What's that?' a voice broke the awkward silence in the kitchen. Lily's sister had invited her boyfriend – whale was a better word for it, she crossly thought – and the witch had to escape to the kitchen to avoid any nasty looks or bragging about Vernon's new car or Vernon's own business or Vernon's whatever it was now. And of course, with her bad luck, she found James Potter in the kitchen, arrogant – though handsome – Chaser of the Gryffindor's Quidditch team. She had mindlessly answered one of his owl's with a message along the lines of 'please come and save me from this muggle' and apparently he'd taken that quite seriously.

'A football, Potter,' she replied, finding the object of James' confusion.

'What's it do?' smirking to herself, she stood up and gestured for him to follow her. He slowly walked up to the round sports' ball, a foot or two behind Lily, maybe fearing it'd bite if he got too close.

'Kick it,' Lily said, standing a feet away from it and crossing her arms with a smirk on her face.

'What?' his hazel eyes met her green ones, a timorous look in them.

'I said, kick it.' And thus the boy gave it a soft kick, jumping back half a feet.

Striding forward, Lily picked up the ball and tossed it at James, who caught it like a second nature. 'It's like a Quaffle, you see. It doesn't bite. Muggle things don't bite, James.'

She walked towards the end of the garden, grabbing a few things out of the shed before placing two neon green pylons in the grass and standing in between them.

'Now, put the football down and kick it towards me. If you manage to get it past me, between the two goal posts, you score a goal and get a point. It's like Quidditch except there's no Snitch or Bludgers,' she smiled before tying her dark red hair up in a ponytail.

And James kicked it a feet or two in front of himself. Striding forward, he went to pick it up before Lily yelled 'NO' and he jumped back, his hands above his head as if he were to be arrested. Biting down on her lip, Lily had to admit James' face was really attracting when scared, like a deer in headlights.

'Only the goalie can touch the ball with his hands, the rest of them are not allowed,' Lily said, taking the ball out of his hands. She placed it down again. 'And your kicking, bloody James, you'd think Gryffindor's best seeker in years could kick a little bit harder against a _muggle _football.' She winked as his hand went through his hair again and the frightened expression turned into an arrogant smirk.

'Now let me show you how to properly kick against a football before the poor snails around here get hurt,' she laughed before walking a few feet back and standing across James. 'Like this.' She said, giving a proper kick against the football and it landed a feet or two in front of him, before walking back towards the other Gryffindor. 'Show me your moves.' She grinned.

Winking, he kicked against an imaginary football towards Lily, his heel running through the soaked grass and mud and – _splash._ Loose drips of mud flew through the air, hitting Lily all over her clothes and face. There was an eerily silence, James awaiting Lily's outburst. He obviously hadn't known her in the mud-covered years of her life.

'James Potter, how – ' _splash. _He mistakenly had looked down and was now paying for the mud on Lily's new fancy clothes Petunia had forced her to wear, with mud in his jet-black hair.

'Lily!' James' voice came out in surprise and another handful of mud hit him. Lily didn't have time to duck when his handful of mud – obviously twice if not thrice in size – came flying towards her. Soon laughter filled up the garden and once in a while Petunia's angry face appeared behind the window, but Lily – who had been specifically told to behave properly and neat to leave a good impression on Vernon, not that she could for her sister had told him she was on a school for ill-mannered teens – didn't mind it at all. All she cared for now was James' gorgeous, rumbling, deep laugh echoing through the garden and his eyes full of joy. They'd been too busy laughing and before they actually noticed it was raining, it was full on pouring from the clouds.

Unthinkingly Lily flung herself against James and hugged him with her arms around his neck, still laughing. His arms found themselves around her waist and he breathed in her strawberry scent, his laughing sounding in her ear.

And as she looked up to him with those wonderfully beautiful almond-shaped green eyes, he couldn't contain herself and kissed her full on the lips. She went stiff in his arms for a few seconds before letting go of herself and tangling her fingers in his hair and deepening the kiss. If it hadn't been for her mum calling out for them in the rain, they'd probably would've stayed there for hours and gotten pneumonia.

But as they both later thought back, cuddling under the same blanket with steaming cups of tea in their hands, they probably would've risked pneumonia for each other.


	6. Jily - Picture traditions

It had been winter when Lily had found out about her pregnancy. She'd baked a cake to drown her worries in and brought it out to James and Sirius, who had started to become feeling like an overprotective and witty brother.

'What's the occasion?' Sirius had asked at which Lily took a deep breath, placed her hand on her abdomen and breathed out:

'I'm pregnant.' And the men sat there, quietly, progressing their surprise. James had flown up from the couch and had engulfed her in a hug. He'd known how terrified she was by the baby that was growing inside of her: it wasn't a time to have a baby, people died every day at hands of Voldemort or his Death Eaters. It would be a great risk but they were willing to take it. And then Sirius, when he too had come over the shock and started babbling about a mini-Prongs, had offered to take a picture, for the baby's and their sake.

And even though they were both teary eyed and stood there hugging, crying, but still smiling, it ended up on their mantelpiece. Thus every day they saw the picture and were reminded about the hope they once had.

—

It had been summer when Harry James was born. Blue balloons filled up the crowded hospital room, the tiny infant asleep in his mother's arms. There was a stuffed stag, stuffed dog, stuffed werewolf and stuffed rat in his hospital cot, a joke from Sirius. James had laughed at this, engulfing his almost-brothers in a group hug. Lily'd cried about it – "pregnancy hormones" – and had also called all the men to her for a hug, deadly afraid that this would be their last hug. And then Sirius had proposed again to take a picture. The nurse had come in to check in on Harry, they had asked her to take a picture. And thus they had another picture to add to their collection: all the Marauders crowding around Lily's hospital bed, James and Sirius on one side, Remus and Peter on the other side. Lily and Harry sat in the middle, the new mum smiling, the infant asleep in her arms and James' arm around his wife.

Every time one of them looked at it, they were reminded again of their unlikely love story.

—

It had been a cold and windy autumn '81 when Hallowe'en had come around. Muggle Halloween decorations had been hung up around the house: old things from Lily's childhood home. Petunia had refused to take them in when her parents were murdered by Death Eaters half a year back. Lily had baked various cupcakes to hand over to their small group of friends. There, however, were no witches or wizards on them: their friend Marlene had been murdered a while back and she had despised Muggle representation of the Wizarding World. Lily had seen her as the loving sister she'd never had and still could not stand anything that reminded her of Marlene without crying.

The Marauders had still a hard time about it too, which was why they all had come around. And as if it was a new tradition now, Sirius had offered to take a picture again. So all of them – Remus, Peter, Sirius, James, Lily and baby Harry – got dressed into some stupid Muggle Halloween costumes. Remus had come as a Muggle football player – to great hilarity from Sirius, who still couldn't understand the studs on the shoes –, Peter had come as Muggle police officer and Sirius had put on some costume from a Muggle artist's Thriller videoclip – Michael Jackson – no one except Lily and Remus had heard of. He had just thought it to be a great costume, complete with hair to show him as a werewolf. The Potter's had dressed Harry as a pumpkin, Lily and James both went as Smurfs – though James didn't understand what was so great about some stupid miniscule blue creatures, didn't they already have Cornish Pixies?

Nevertheless, they'd put the camera on some stand Lily had found in their attic and had set off the timer. They all smiled and waved at the camera as the flash went off, Lily waving Harry's hand for him.

None of them realized it that night, but their tight group of friends would never be the same. Lily and James would be both dead by midnight, Sirius would be locked in Azkaban within a week, Peter – who had betrayed them as their secret Keeper – would be with Voldemort, Harry would be left on his aunt and uncle's doorstep in the little hours of the night and Remus would be all alone.

No, things wouldn't be the same.

—

It was spring '03 when Harry left home. His soon-to-be wife Ginny had asked him where he went and he'd simply replied he'd be back by nightfall and kissed her tenderly on her lips. She seemed to be content with it – he'd never leave her in her wildest dreams. And so she'd called Hermione to plan the wedding with and told Harry she loved him. His reply was that he loved her too, and so he set foot out the door, Disapparating to Godric's Hollow.

He Apparated back in a back alley near his infant home. Walking through the streets, The-Boy-Who-Lived counted down the house numbers until he was where his old home would appear. The sign outing people's grieving was still there and it seemed like no one had taken the time to mow the lawn.

Softly, Harry pushed open the gate. Tears threatened to leak as he entered the house and pictured his father laying there, his glasses askew.

The youngest – and only for now – Potter soon found the living room and the fireplace. And as if it all came back to him, he found the photos laying on the ground, their glasses broken. He picked them up and loved them already – all of his mum and dad's friends and himself in a picture was the best pre-wedding present he'd ever gotten.

Rummaging through the living room, he found a couple of photo albums, a book his mum had scribbled in "Lily Evans" and on the bottom of the page was scribbled "favourite book ever". He found his dad's broomsticks in the cupboard under the stairs, an old coffee mug someone had clearly used almost 22 years back in the kitchen, an old Daily Prophet on the couch and a couple of letters from Remus, Sirius and Peter – and a couple of friends Harry did not know – in a kitchen drawer.

As Harry went up the stairs, he realized his mum had walked there almost 22 years back in complete and utter fright and remembered her last screams of terrors.

As he reached the landing, he stuffed all the things he'd found so far in the backpack he'd taken with him from downstairs. Rummaging around in his old nursery, he took all the clothes and toys and books he could find along with him, sure that he'd find a place for it back at home.

And then when he came into his parents' rooms, he found old love letters and pictures and even the old snitch from their fifth year on the bottom of the closet. Tears now really fell down his cheeks and he found his mum's favourite shampoo and his dad's bath soap as well as his dad's old glasses. He put them on, and found out that he and his dad had the same bad eyesight.

As he took all that he could find and deemed important enough to stuff into his backpack and showed them to Ginny, he knew he'd found his place back home with her.

They both found places for the important things and sat down on the couch to look through the photo albums. And as they both sat there, crying and hugging and laughing about the pictures, Harry realized he made the best decision of his life to stick with Ginny, who had now become his rock and his home through everything.

'Ginny, I love you,' Harry told her as they fell almost asleep. Ginny kissed his lips before cuddling into him and replying: 'I love you, too.'


End file.
